When We Touch
by Squeeka Cuomo
Summary: Random moments. Simple touches. Unforgettable encounters. NEW: "Artie & Emma"
1. Kurt & Mercedes

**When We Touch  
****Kurt & Mercedes**

In his very short high school career, Kurt Hummel had gotten used to being thrown in the dumpster every day before school.

And he'd even learned a few important lessons that made the horrible ordeal slightly more bearable.

For instance, he'd learned to brace himself for the moment when he'd hit the heap of black plastic garbage bags. It wasn't that they were particularly hard, but sometimes there'd be sharp edges, usually from cans of what they tried to pass off as food in the cafeteria. And landing on those was about as pleasant as trying to eat the sludge that came out of them in the first place.

Another thing Kurt had learned was the importance of body spray. Because the stench of garbage in the morning was _never_ attractive. Not even on him, believe it or not.

And in a very short amount of time, the routine of arrive at school, get dumped in the trash can, crawl out, and de-odorize had become so routine, so much a part of Kurt's life, that he'd even quit fighting the jocks. He'd even gotten to the point of handing over his bag and firing snarky comments at them, comments that they either ignored, or more likely didn't get. And even though they didn't get what he was saying, Kurt always felt as if he were taking charge of the situation with his wit. It made him feel like less of a victim knowing that he could fight back.

Even if it was just with words.

So when Kurt arrived at school the morning after the already infamous "Push It" assembly, he expected the same old (pardon the pun) song and dance. Nothing more. Nothing less. And Puck and his football buddies didn't disappoint.

When he walked up to school, they were standing by the same dumpster as always. Puck, letterman jacket hanging open and faux-hawk freshly shaven, had his arm resting on the edge and was watching Kurt walk up, a hungry and expectant look on Puck's face.

The closer he got to the jock and his friends, the more resigned Kurt felt. Sure, there were other ways to get into the school, but he knew, as sure as he knew that he was Judy Garland in a past life, that Puck, as stupid as he was, would find him no matter which entrance he used. So it just wasn't worth the energy to go out of his way when the end result would be the same no matter what.

"There you are!" Puck's voice was deep and taunting. "We thought you might not show up after yesterday." He pushed himself away from the trash can, moving to stand directly in front of Kurt.

Kurt wanted to respond, wanted to come up with a biting and witty retort, but Puck was less than a few inches away from him. If Kurt were taller, they'd have been almost nose to nose. And he couldn't shake the feeling that the very large, very muscular football player wanted to do something worse than throw him in the garbage can. Worse than pee balloons and lawn furniture nailed to the roof even. And as he looked up at Puck, Kurt knew his eyes were wide and huge, just like a scared bunny rabbit, and his jaw was clamped painfully shut.

Kurt was about to step back, to turn and run away when he felt something brush against his elbow.

When the gentle pressure lingered, Kurt wanted to turn and see who was standing by his side. But he couldn't tear his eyes away from Puck, who had crossed his arms over his wide chest. And as the hulking jock looked over him, Kurt felt himself tense up more and more. So much so that when he heard the fierce voice belonging to the person next to him, Kurt let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding

"Hey! There you are." Mercedes sounded confident, as if she could care less about the hyena-esque circle of jocks. "I thought we were gonna meet in the auditorium before first period to talk fashion?"

They hadn't made any such plans. In fact, Mercedes hated it when he critiqued her clothing. It had been a bone of contention between then since they'd started New Directions. And because of that, Kurt knew she'd come up with that excuse on purpose. And because of that and what she was doing, he could have kissed her.

On the lips.

Or not…

"Speaking of which, honey, that jacket is awful." _That_ broke the spell Puck had over him because…

It was his new Mark Jacobs. And therefore, _not_ awful in any way, shape or form. Period.

Kurt's eyes snapped from the jock to Mercedes as his mouth fell open in shock. If he were in a Warner Brothers cartoon, his eyes would have been bugging out, and his temper would have been flying out of the top of his head. Which Mercedes must have known because she just winked one twinkling eye at him as if she'd been wanting to say that for a while.

"Now, if you'll excuse us…" Mercedes gave Puck a brilliant smile as if everything were just peachy.

But things weren't anywhere near peachy, and Kurt was torn between jock-induced fear, annoyance at Mercedes' lack of fashion sense, and thankfulness that she was there. But it wasn't until he felt Puck's strong hand on his chest that he settled on one of the options. Unfortunately, it was jock-induced fear. His body tightened up slightly, and he clutched his bag tightly to his chest.

"Uh uh. Kurt and I have… an appointment." Puck's voice was light with a slight undertone of menace. Kurt felt himself clench up immediately. And he could tell that Mercedes had felt his involuntary reaction whether he liked it or not.

He wasn't sure how she'd managed to pry his arms away from his side, but Mercedes slipped her arm protectively through his. "I don't think so. But if you _really_ want to talk to someone, I think I just heard Mr. Schuester's car."

Sure enough, Kurt could hear the clanking and rattling of Schu's busted up automobile.

And from the look on Puck's and the rest of the football team's faces, so could they.

When Mr. Schuester parked only a couple of feet from where they were standing, Kurt felt his body relax slightly.

"That's what I thought." Not waiting for a response, Mercedes pulled Kurt towards the school.

But she wasn't fast enough to keep Puck from shoving him in the chest and whispering in his ear. "We're not finished here…" As an involuntary shiver rushed through his body, Kurt fled forward, practically pulling Mercedes behind him.

"My jacket is _not_ awful. It's designer. Unlike yours. I see you're still wearing that zebra print _thing_." Kurt haughtily picked at a non-existent thread on Mercedes' rainbow, zebra-print hoodie.

As they walked on together, Kurt tried to thank her. But he couldn't.

Not speaking, Kurt thought about the other times people had tired to help him, because Mercedes wasn't the first. Mr. Schuester always thought he was helping by asking if he'd made friends with Puck whenever he saw them by the dumpster. A few other teachers had made similar gestures, but nothing ever helped. He'd always ended up in the trash anyways.

But what Mercedes had just done, well, it woke something up in him. It was like there was a rose bud, as cliché as that sounded (and it sounded cliché), in his stomach, and it was beginning to open up ever so slightly. And Kurt knew that that was because of her.

As they walked through the throngs of jocks, Cheerios and nobodies (i.e. everyone else), Kurt felt, for the first time in his life, like he had a friend. A _real_ friend and not just someone who wanted to copy the notes he'd taken during a lecture they'd slept through.

Part of him felt ashamed for feeling that way _now_. After all, they'd been in New Directions together for a couple of weeks, and they'd formed a bond because of that. But this was different. This was outside of rehearsal, and it wasn't related to glee club at all. This felt real in a way that an after-school function-based relationship hadn't.

Once again, Mercedes seemed to understand his non-thank you. Giving him a wide smile, she shrugged and said, "You're just jealous you can't pull it off." Kurt's response was swallowed by the chatter of the rest of the student body as they were swept into the entrance. But what he said didn't matter. It was clearly an argument that they were never going to see eye to eye on. And really, as much as he complained at her, he couldn't care less. Having her next to him was so much more important.

The next day, when Mercedes wasn't around, Puck threw Kurt into the dumpster before _and_ after school.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes  
**- "When We Touch" is a series on one shots focusing on simple touches between different characters. I haven't posted anything in a while and my beta (Quack) pointed out the LJ community "story_lottery" to me. I decided to undertake the challenge and use each prompt to center a (very) short story around. I hope you like it!  
- The prompt I chose for "Kurt & Mercedes" was "a bud".  
- Quack: Thank you so much for pointing out the lottery to me. With any luck, it'll help me beat you at HF. :D Thanks for all of your help.  
- Disclaimer: Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	2. Tina & Quinn

**When We Touch  
****Tina & Quinn**

"Hey! Watch it les-" Quinn stopped mid-word and snorted pointedly. Her eyes roved over a _very _disheveled Tina, obviously not liking what she was seeing. "Well, I was going to say lesbo, but aren't you and that wheelchair kid, like, dating or whatever? I mean, you're always pushing his chair around. That's gotta be, what, first base with him?" The cheerleader chuckled at her own joke as she flipped her hair back. The sound was soft and amused, belying the true nature of her words, and Tina wasn't fooled. She'd been tormented one too many times by Quinn Fabray to be tricked by the sweetness of her voice.

"Ar… Ar… Artie and I, we're just-" Tina had been working on her stutter and it had gotten better over the past few months. But when she was stressed or upset, it always managed to come back to haunt her. And bumping into the Cheerio of Cheerios definitely counted as a stressful situation.

"Friends?" Quinn smiled knowingly. "I believe you. And because of that, I definitely think you're gay."

"I'm… I…" That time, Tina wasn't stuttering. She just couldn't bring herself to deny what Quinn was saying.

It wasn't that Tina was gay. Or… at least, she didn't think she was. But when she had bumped into Quinn, when their bodies had collided, all elbows and books, Tina had felt more pleasure than pain.

Right before Tina had slammed into Quinn, she'd been rushing down the overcrowded hall between fifth and sixth period. She'd been heading towards a huge biology test. When it had happened, her head had been bowed low over her textbook as she'd tried to cram a few last bits of vitally important information into memory.

One moment she'd been trying to copy and paste the finer points of photosynthesis into her brain, and the next her book had been crashing to the floor as she'd taken an elbow to the ribs. As Tina had let out an involuntary "oooof," a shrill shriek had met her ears. The noise should have been able to shatter glass; it _should_ have made Tina's ears bleed, but it hadn't. Sure, it had been annoying, but it also had been sweet, _girly_.

Trying to brush off how the noise had (or hadn't) affected her, Tina had dropped to the floor to grab her book. (It would only have taken a few seconds for it to get swept away in a tidal wave of stomping feet.) But as she'd picked it up. Tina had noticed a pair of perfectly white sneakers, standing right before her, one foot tapping impatiently. And instantly, she'd frozen.

There was only one group of people in the whole school who was _allowed_ to wear those particular shoes.

The Cheerios.

And making one of them mad was _never_ a good thing.

But for some reason, as Tina had watched the rapidly tapping foot, what she felt hadn't been fear. It had been something else, something she didn't have a name for. And it had been something that caused her to stay frozen in her spot.

Normally, the thought of a Cheerio fixing their sights on her would have sent Tina into a stuttering frenzy. But as she'd crouched by her textbook and the white shoe had given way to a shapely ankle, which then turned into a slender calf, Tina had been just speechless. She'd liked to have stayed down on the linoleum admiring the freshly shaven, milky white skin, but an impatient voice had pulled her back to the noisy hallway and the situation at hand.

"Hey! Stand up. Now." The voice had been commanding, as if the speaker had expected Tina to obey.

And Tina had.

She had been too shocked, confused, and most importantly, _amazed_ to refuse.

Tina quickly had pushed herself up and had been met by a vision that exploded before her eyes like a camera flash throwing everything into sharp, stark relief. And the light of that flash had been so powerful that it had been almost blinding in its beauty.

Quinn, evil, heinous, Quinn had been standing before her. Her bare arms had been crossed over her chest, and her foot still had been tap-tap-tapping away. The movement had been so forceful that it had been causing her perky, blonde ponytail to bounce around like a four-year-old hopped up on too much sugar. But even though Tina had been staring at a _very_ angry Cheerio, all she could do had been to stand there feeling shocked and amazed.

The girl before her no longer had been Quinn Fabray, the hateful hag who had tortured her since first grade. No, she'd been someone, something else.

Something soft, and beautiful, and most importantly, feminine.

And as the rest of the scene - hallway, students and harried teachers had melted into a blur of white noise, Quinn had come into sharper focus. Her blonde hair had been shiny and looked as if it would be silky to the touch. And the picture, in its startling clarity, highlighted rosy cheeks and lips that shined with just a hint of gloss.

She had been light perfume and gentle curves.

Bare shoulders and fair skin.

Slender hips and petite breasts.

And as Tina had stared at Quinn, truly seeing her for the first time, she hadn't been able to help but wonder what it might be like to run her fingers through Quinn's blonde locks. Or what it would feel like to slide her hand around the other girl's waist, the rough red fabric of her Cheerio uniform sliding under her fingertips.

But even though it had been Quinn's face and form working its way through her thoughts, Tina had known that the way she was feeling had nothing to do with Quinn herself. Because to Tina, Quinn was nothing more than candy-coated evil.

What really mattered, what was really important, was that Quinn Fabray was a _girl_.

And Tina had never once felt that way about another girl before. At least not that she could remember, and Tina had been pretty sure she'd remember something like _that_. And now that the thoughts were in her mind, Tina had felt compelled to indulge them, to try and figure out what they meant. But Quinn's taunting voice brought her back to the present.

"I bet you haven't even kissed a boy, have you?" When Tina didn't respond, Quinn smirked triumphantly. "Didn't think so." Not bothering to wait for a response, she turned on her heel and disappeared into a pack of cackling Cheerios who happened to be passing by.

Tina wanted to respond, because she had kissed a boy before. It was a year ago, and it had only been once. When it had happened, the boy had tired to grab her chest and butt (one hand for each) as he'd jammed his tongue down her throat. It had been awful. And in the end, Tina had managed to knee the guy in the groin and push him into a mud puddle before running home.

She hadn't kissed a boy since, but Tina had simply thought it was because her first experience had been so traumatic. Never once did she think it had to do with boys vs. girls, shaved heads vs. ponytails.

But now… she wasn't so sure.

If it hadn't been for the obnoxious clanking of the bell, Tina might have stayed in her spot forever. But as the sound rang out, she finally realized how long she'd been standing in the hallway. More confused by Quinn than the chapter she'd been reading, Tina ran towards the bio room. There was no way she'd make it to class on time, and now, with visions of soft shoulders and glossy lips filling her head, there was no way she was going to pass her test. She could only hope that figuring out what her feelings meant would be easier than trying to understand photosynthesis.

The next day, when Tina saw the sign-up sheet for New Directions, she knew _exactly_ which song she wanted to sing for her audition.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes  
**- This was originally written for the lj community "story_lottery". The prompt I chose for "Tina & Quinn" was "a camera flash ".  
- Next up, by request is "Puck and Rachel" for boldlikeblack. :)  
- Quack: You are an awesome red-pen-of-doom wielder. Thanks so much for your help!  
- Reviews are love.


	3. Puck & Rachel

**When We Touch  
****Puck & Rachel**

The day after his first (and only) performance with the Acafellas, Puck felt different.

Not in some cheesy Hallmark, it-doesn't-matter-if-something-is-lame-so-long-as-it-makes-you-feel-good way either. That had nothing to do with it. In fact, joining the all male group had simply been a means to an end.

A way to get to what he _really_ wanted.

What did he really want? Women with no expectations, women who wanted nothing more than a hot young body and a _good_ time. (Both were things that he was more than qualified to provide.) And on top of that, he wanted women who didn't care about credit scores or proms.

In short, what Puck wanted was cougars.

And the Acafellas performance did _not_ disappoint in that department. Even Sylvester, the nasty coach of the Cheerios, wanted a little of his somethin' somethin'. And while that kind of grossed him out, he could hardly blame her. Puck was hot, and he knew it, and he certainly didn't have a problem capitalizing on that.

After the performance, Puck had had five women (and one man) ask if he'd be willing to come over and look at their above ground pools. And he knew, for a fact, that a couple of them didn't even have pools. But that didn't matter. All he cared about was that they were interested in his _business_. And that was just fine with him, because each and every one of them managed to touch (or grab) part of him as he promised to stop by their houses later in the week.

H fully planned to make each and every one of those house calls. All except for the random dude whom Puck just planned to ignore that was.

But even though he could have gone home with _any_ of the women in the audience at the PTA meeting, Puck had gone home alone. However, that was _only_ because his _mom_ had been there, and she'd known he had a Spanish test to study for. If she hadn't been there though, he'd have had his pick of the bunch.

The next morning when he walked into school (after tossing Kurt into the garbage, of course), it was with the knowledge that he was beyond silly little high school girls. Santana included.

He strode down the hall enjoying the feel of people's eyes on him. It was as if they too could sense that there was something different about him. It was in the way they turned and stared as if they'd never seen him before. Puck had even caught Sylvester staring at him as he passed her office. When he smiled and winked, she gave a little nod like she had the night before she disappeared into her office.

Puck still thought she was crazy, but he loved her reaction just the same.

When he got further down the hall, a group of Cheerios pranced past him in their short, slatted skirts, and Puck turned to watch them bounce along. Just because he was done with girls his age didn't mean he wouldn't scope them out.

To be honest, now that he was a free, cougars-only agent, Puck found that he looked at them in a different way. High school girls were nubile and young, but they didn't have the raw sex appeal of a desperate woman.

So as Puck made his way down the crowded hallway watching short skirts sway just enough to reveal glimpses of lacy panties and tops that were just a little bit too sheer. But he didn't expect to see anything that could compare to the moms he'd met the night before. After all, girls his age were nothing compared to the maturity of an older woman.

But as he got to the end of the hall, Puck found himself drawn to a girl that he couldn't quite place. However, that didn't really surprise him. It wasn't like she stood out for any particular reason. She was wearing a short skirt and sweater, so she wasn't a Cheerio. And her hair, brunette and just past her shoulders, could have belonged to the majority of the dark-haired girls in the school.

Pausing a few feet away from where she stood, Puck watched as the mystery girl bent over the watering fountain.

When she'd bent forward, the back of her modestly short skirt had ridden up, revealing toned, though not overly muscular, thighs. The rest of her legs, from the knee down, were covered in light gray knee-high socks with ducks on them.

Personally, from the moment that Puck had realized that girls were good, he'd hated knee-high socks. He thought they stupid, and he just couldn't understand the reasoning behind wearing socks up to your knees when they just left the rest of your legs uncovered (that weren't covered by a skirt) and therefore, cold.

But as he watched the brunette sipping from the fountain, Puck finally realized that the socks were _supposed_ to make him _want_ more. Because right at that moment, all cougars aside, he wanted nothing more that to peel the socks slowly off of her legs to see what lay beneath. If the rest of her was as smokin' as the tiny bit of thigh he could see, then Puck felt like he was in for a treat.

But before that could happen. He needed to know _who_ she was.

An outside observer would have said that the real reason Puck still don't know who the girl was, was because he was too busy trying to figure out what lay beneath the gray and yellow fabric of her socks. But that wasn't the case at all. He'd also looked at the slim strip of skin that was showing between the top of her skirt and the bottom of her sweater. And he'd also enjoyed the curves of her back and shoulders. But even though he'd checked her over from head to toe, Puck still had no idea who she was. The only thing that had prevented him from finding out who she was, was her hair. When she'd bent over the fountain, her dark brown locks had fallen in a curtain that covered the side of her face.

Fed up and unable to take it any longer, Puck decided to man up and do something about the identity of his mystery girl. After all, if he could deal with the sexual desires of un-loved, middle-aged women, he could certainly find out who was hiding behind that brown hair.

Encouraged by his own pep talk, Puck took a purposeful step forward so that he stood right next to the girl. And with all of the daring that his exploits afforded him (and that was a _lot_), he reached out and very carefully pushed the hair out of the way.

And as he did, the mystery girl turned to look at him.

When Puck finally saw her face, the trance that had been building up around him burst like a soap bubble, splattering him with little suds of reality.

He was standing face-to-face with Rachel Berry, and his hand was still twisted in the locks of her brown hair. When she first turned around, she looked surprised, but also expectant, as if she was _hoping_ someone would come up and touch her like that. Her eyes, which were just as brown as her hair, were wider than normal, making them roughly the size of the moon. But even though the beauty of her eyes was shocking, it was her tentative, almost smile that was truly captivating.

But all of that disappeared when their gaze met.

The second realization hit, the excitement in her eyes turned to fear, causing Puck to pull his hand back as if he'd been stung. And as they stood frozen, staring at each other, Puck wished his fingers were still in her soft hair and that the hopeful look in her eyes had been for him.

But most of all, he wished that he could figure out _why_ he was feeling that way. Because Rachel Berry made Puck want to light himself on fire and he'd felt that way for as long as he could remember.

She was creepy and obnoxious, much like an overexcited squirrel that'd just found the perfect acorn. Her constantly perky attitude never failed to grate at his last nerve, and as he looked at her, Puck could feel those very same nerve endings being to twitch. But standing there, staring at her, Puck wondered if maybe he'd been wrong about her. If maybe, all of his aggression towards her had been something else.

But he didn't get a chance to find out, because the moment he opened his mouth to speak, Rachel took off down the hall, quickly disappearing into the sea of bustling students. And more bothered by the encounter than he'd liked to admit, Puck was left standing by the water fountain, feeling both confused and intrigued, long after the bell had rang for first period.

The next day, determined to prove to himself that nothing had changed, Puck threw an extra-large grape slushie at Rachel right as she was headed into glee rehearsal.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes  
**- This was originally written for the lj community "story_lottery". The prompt I chose for "Tina & Quinn" was "soap bubble ".  
- This was written for, and is dedicated to "boldlikeblack". I hope you liked it! :duck:  
- Quack: I couldn't do this without your help. Even if it's just you listening to me whine and complain. Thanks so much. :duck:  
- Reviews are love.


	4. Will & Finn

**When We Touch  
****Will & Finn**

The moment Will saw Finn's face, he could tell something was wrong.

At first, when Finn had walked out onto the stage, Will hadn't been able to tell. The boy had been too far away, and the lights hadn't been totally up. He'd just figured that maybe Finn wanted to talk to him about some extra dance rehearsals or maybe some extra-credit for Spanish. So, without even thinking, he'd said, "Hey Finn, what's up?"

But as Finn walked towards him, his arms wrapped protectively around his stomach, Will felt a knot of panic in the pit of his stomach. The worry and fear that had twisted Finn's features into an almost unrecognizable version of himself, were glaringly obvious. So obvious that Will would have to be blind not to notice it.

As he got closer and closer, Finn's eyes filled with tears that refused to be held back. He tried to answer Will, but all that came out was a mumble that sounded like "I… I'm sorry." Looking lost and alone, Finn shifted his weight from foot to foot as if he didn't know what to do.

"Hey…" Will's voice was soft, concerned, which only seemed to upset Finn more. Just as Finn's face crinkled up in a last ditch effort to keep from crying, Will pulled him into a tight hug, not thinking or wondering about what he should do. All he could think to say was, "It's ok" as Finn cried into his shoulder.

Hugging Finn, Will realized that putting his arms out to the boy had been his first instinct. The fact that Sandy had been fired for touching another male student only months before never even crossed his mind. Nor had the fact that Sue had probably set up surveillance cameras _everywhere_ to catch him doing something wrong.

In retrospect, Will knew that he should have probably thought all of those things. But the moment he saw Finn, all that mattered was making the pain on his face go away. But despite that urgency, as Finn snuffled into Will's shoulder, all Will could think about was his father.

When it came to his parents, Will had always considered himself lucky. Sure, his mom liked the booze a little too much, but his mom and dad loved one another. More importantly, they loved him. And looking back, Will knew that had made all the difference in his life. Deep down, he knew that without their unyielding love and support, he wouldn't have become the man he was today.

Of course, that didn't mean that everything had always been perfect between them. They'd had their fights and angry moments, but in the end, they'd always managed to make things right.

But as much as he loved both of his parents, Will and his father had always shared a special bond.

It was a bond that began over late night feedings when his mom had been just a wee bit too tipsy to hold him securely enough. His mother, in a rare sober state, had told Will about that a few years ago. As far as she could remember, his father would rock him to sleep, singing whatever song popped into his head. And if his mother was to be trusted, that included everything from Bob Dylan to Mary Poppins.

Whether or not any of that was true, Will wasn't sure. Because, as much as he loved his mother, her memory wasn't always the most reliable source of information.

There had been a couple of times when Will had thought about asking his dad to tell him about those nights. But he couldn't bring himself to. When it came down to it, Will liked his mother's version of events, and he didn't want to let that go. So he'd held onto the vision with the faith of a small child looking forward to the Easter bunny.

But other than what he couldn't remember, Will knew how the rest of the story went, of how his and his father's relationship progressed. Of course, Will's parents occasionally liked to surprise him with stories from his "terrible two's" and, as they liked to call them, his "unfortunate four's." But other than that, he stuck to, and preferred, his own memories. They weren't skewed by alcohol or fatherly amusement. And as far as Will was concerned, his version of events was much more accurate because they were based on his memories.

And as Will felt Finn's hand tighten in the fabric of his shirt, Will was reminded of all the times he'd been in the same position with his own father. When he was little, it had been because of bumped elbows and scraped knees that had sent Will running for his father's embrace. As he got older though, the reasons had shifted from things like minor injuries to father/son binding and girl (i.e. Terry) problems.

But no matter how old he was, or what the reason, his father's hugs had always made him feel the same exact way:

Warm, safe and protected.

Like nothing could ever touch him so long as his father was there, by his side.

It was a feeling that Will could easily recall from his earliest childhood memories and trace through out his life. He could remember the loving touch of his daddy with such intensity that it brought tears to his eyes. And though that simplistic feeling was gone, Will loved the connection that they shared now so much more.

Because now their bond was more than just that of father and son. Now, it was filled with the mutual respect and love between two men who considered one another friends.

And Will wouldn't have traded that for the world.

With a noisy sniffle from Finn, Will was brought back to the present. He was no longer five years old and wrapped in his father's arms. Instead, he was standing on the stage of the auditorium with an upset student clutching him for dear life.

But there was something about the hug that felt familiar and comforting… If only from a different perspective.

When Finn buried his head further into Will's shoulder, Will realized what it was. Because, for just a second, for the very first time, Will felt like a father.

And the feeling was incredible.

As Finn's chest heaved, Will couldn't help but wonder if that was how his own father had felt every time he'd hugged him.

The feeling was so wonderful, so intoxicating, that Will never wanted it to end.

Will was so desperate to hold onto the feeling that he felt himself cling to Finn almost as desperately as Finn was holding onto him. As they hugged one another, Will imagined, for the millionth time, what it would be like to hold his own little boy for the first time. But what touched him the most were thoughts of all the hugs that would follow through the years.

In the space of a few seconds, Will saw his son's life flash before his eyes. Normally, seeing the entirety of one's existence in the blink of an eye was terrifying. But it filled Will with more hope than he thought he could handle. Because in the life to come, he'd seen late night feedings, school pageants, and baseball games - not to mention homework, tears, and most importantly, hugs.

Lots and lots of hugs.

And as he watched it all, Will could only hope that he would or could be as wonderful as his own father.

The next day, Will stopped by his parent's house just so that he could hug his father and tell him how much he meant to him.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes  
**- This was originally written for the LJ community "story_lottery". The prompt I chose for "Will & Finn" was "a second".  
- Quack: Thank you so much. My tenses thank you as well. Thanks for being so awesome.  
- Reviews are love.


	5. Artie & Emma

* This part contains spoilers for 1X09, "Wheels."

* * *

**When We Touch  
****Artie & Emma**

The moment he spotted Tina sitting at their normal table in the lunchroom, Artie rolled to a stop.

Just inside the cafeteria's doors, he should have been worried about people coming in behind him. But for once, Artie wasn't worried about trying to make sure he wasn't in anyone's way. That wasn't to say that he usually hid by walls until everyone was gone, but he did try to be mindful of those around him and of his surroundings.

Usually anyway.

Because as he watched Tina throw her head back in laughter at something Kurt said, Artie didn't care. To him, making sure that the jocks could get to the slushie machine just didn't seem important after what had happened with Tina the other night.

Up until their kiss, things had been going so well between them. Not just on the date, but in general. They'd become friends at the beginning of their freshman year, and since then, they'd studied together and hung out on the weekends. Their friendship had seemed so great, and on top of that, their date had gone really well.

Until she'd confessed that her stutter, her _disability_, was fake that was.

After she'd confessed to him, Artie had felt as if he'd been looking at a totally different person. The girl sitting in the wheelchair before him was no longer Tina, the girl he'd developed a crush on because of her pretty eyes and sweet smile. She wasn't the one who had pushed him to glee rehearsal everyday since it had started. But worst of all, she was no longer the person he could relate to because, when it came down to it, she was fine.

There was nothing wrong with her.

Deep down, Artie knew Tina had thought she was doing the right thing by telling him. But, the truth was… she'd broken his heart. And even though she obviously had feelings for him, Artie didn't know if he had it in him to totally forgive her.

"Have you tried talking to her?" Even though it came out of nowhere, Artie recognized the gentle voice instantly. He didn't need to turn to know that Ms. Pillsbury was standing right next to him. He could feel her there.

"I don't _want_ to talk to her right now." Even though he was addressing the guidance counselor, Artie continued to watch Tina who was trying not to laugh as she bit off a piece of her pizza. Normally, he would have been sitting next to her, laughing with her, but today he didn't feel like eating.

"Oh." The response was simple, to the point and full of painful understanding.

"Yeah…" For the first time since he'd stopped in the doorway, Artie tore his eyes away from Tina. Looking up at Ms. Pillsbury, he was surprised to see that she wasn't looking at him or Tina. Instead, her gaze was trained on Mr. Schuester, who was grabbing something from the lunch line. And instantly, he _knew_ how she felt about him. Artie had heard rumors but never really believed them himself. But when he saw her large brown eyes, he knew that they were all true, because the look in them mirrored how he felt whenever he saw Tina.

"What do you do when there's something huge in the way?" Artie's voice was soft and unsure; his question wasn't as articulate as normal. And instead of watching her face for a reaction, he looked from Mr. Schuester to Tina.

"I… Well, I… Artie." Mr. Schuester walked over to where Tina, Kurt, and Mercedes were sitting. But instead of talking to them, he looked up and waved at Ms. Pillsbury.

Unable to stand feeling like he was spying on a private moment, Artie looked down at his lap, waiting for the guidance counselor to answer his question.

But when she didn't, he looked up at her. Larger and rounder than usual, her eyes were sparkling in the fluorescent glow of the cafeteria lights. As he watched, she smiled sweetly and bit down on her bottom lip before giving Schu a little wave back.

When she finally turned and looked down at him, Artie was surprised to see her looking so straight forward and matter of fact. It was almost as if looking at Mr. Schuester had inspired her some way.

"Well, Artie," Ms. Pillsbury stopped and smiled down at him. "Is this something that is insurmountable? Or… Well, that's to say, is this something, the thing between you two." Here, she gestured between himself and Tina, but her eyes flickered to Schuester. "Is it something that just can't be helped or forgiven?" Her voice trailed off at the end, sounding almost desperate.

"I… don't know." The sadness that tinged Ms. Pillsbury's words was reflected in Artie's own. At first, he'd been upset, but as he watched Tina, laughing and enjoying herself, Artie felt that anger turn to sorrow. He wanted to say more, but all that came out was a long, low sigh.

"Well, when you figure out if this _thing_…" Ms. Pillsbury stopped to give Artie a sympathetic smile before continuing, "is forgivable or _not_…"

Artie picked up on the slight emphasis she'd put on the not and couldn't help but wonder if she were talking about herself and Mr. Schuester as well as his problem with Tina. "Then you'll know what to do."

Artie simply nodded. Her advice, despite its indirectness, was simply common sense. And if someone had asked him the same question, he'd probably have responded the same way. (With fewer words that was.) But even though it was such ordinary advice, it still helped. "Thanks, Ms. Pillsbury."

"Oh, you're welcome, Artie. You're a smart kid. I'm sure you'll figure out what to do." Artie was about to say something but stopped when Ms. Pillsbury tentatively reached out her hand as if she were going to place it on his shoulder.

While no one knew for sure what the guidance counselor suffered from, everyone in the school knew she didn't like germs or touching people. And for the most part, everyone respected that. But deep down, Artie couldn't help but wonder how many of them truly understood just how difficult things could be for her.

It wasn't so much that Artie understood what she went through with her problem, but he could empathize with her. Though their challenges were different, they both had their obstacles to overcome. And for the most part, they were able to deal, but they were still treated differently. And more than once, Artie had seen his own pain reflected in her eyes.

Just liked he'd thought he could with Tina.

Ms. Pillsbury's hand hung over Artie's shoulder for a few seconds before she pulled it back a little but not completely. Artie just sat still, waiting to see what she would do. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the guidance counselor lower her hand again, fractionally before hastily pulling it back to herself.

For the next few seconds, Artie continued to sit patiently, acting as if he didn't know what she was trying to do. He knew that, in the end, she probably wouldn't be able to touch him, but he wanted to give her the chance to at least try.

Instead of saying anything, Artie reached up and placed his own hand on the shoulder she'd been aiming for. And though she wasn't even touching him, Artie swore he could feel her hand under his.

And oddly enough, it made him think of the episodes of _Paranormal State_ he and Tina had watched at his house. Together, they'd scoffed at the idea of being touched by a ghost. But as Ms. Pillsbury's hand, warm and reassuring, seemed to linger under his own, Artie understood the power of a phantom touch.

Dropping his hand, Artie looked up at Ms. Pillsbury, and for the first time, their eyes met. "Thanks, again." Together, they looked over to where Mr. Schuester was handing Tina some sheet music before looking back at each other. "I'm sure everything will work out for you too."

Ms. Pillsbury simply stared down at him, looking very much like a doe caught in headlights. Before she could respond, Artie wheeled himself out of the cafeteria. Still not hungry, he decided to spend the rest of his lunch hour in the music room practicing.

Whether or not the thing between he and Tina was forgivable, Artie still wasn't sure. Part of him wanted to go right over and join the table, to join in. But another part, the part of him that had been truly hurt, just couldn't. And he figured that it would take a lot of time for him to truly decide how he felt. But for now, he didn't want to be, didn't think he could be, near her.

The next day, instead of waiting for Tina to push him to glee rehearsal, Artie wheeled himself to the auditorium.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes  
**- Though this project was originally started for the lj community "story_lottery", I'm no longer working on those prompts. My personal prompt was "ghost touch".  
- Quack: Thank you. Your help means more than I can say.  
- Reviews are love.


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